Breaking Ten Thousand

Hum—

The engine of the 30x gravity chamber emitted a heavy wheeze. The air twisted under the immense pressure into visible ripples, and even the light from the high-intensity cold lamp on the dome seemed dimmed, as if pulled thin by this brutal force.

Son Goku stood with his toned upper body bare, his feet rooted into the alloy floor like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. Sweat had no chance to pool on his skin; the moment it seeped out, the terrifying 30x gravity slammed it against the floor, creating a sound like heavy rain drumming on a steel plate.

Every breath felt like swallowing blades, and the two hundred-plus bones in his body emitted a teeth-grinding creak under the extreme pressure.

After more than half a year of extreme refinement, 30x was the current limit for this physical body. Pushing it up another notch without regard for his life would cause his internal organs to rupture within his chest cavity under the crushing weight.

"Hah!"

Bearing a load heavy enough to crush a heavy armored vehicle into a pancake, Son Goku gritted his teeth. Relying on the unreasonable, savage instinct of his Ancient Saiyan Bloodline, he forced out the final set of air strikes. As the last punch whipped out, the scorching force of his fist tore a sonic boom through the viscous air!

Beep!

The countdown on the wall hit zero, and the red light turned green. The gravity field let out a long hum before disengaging completely.

Son Goku felt his body lighten, every cell in his being cheering greedily. He walked over to the rest area, bit open a tube of Bulma's specially formulated concentrated nutrient solution, and tilted his head back to down it in one gulp.

He didn't collapse into a pile of mush like an ordinary martial artist after a session; instead, he sat cross-legged on the spot to meditate, closing his eyes to regulate his breathing.

The ki within him began to flow steadily, like a rushing river, brutally and greedily repairing those torn muscle fibers. The logic of the Saiyan bloodline was simple and crude—as long as he didn't die, the reward for crawling back was an exponentially surging foundation of combat power.

A moment later, Son Goku slowly opened his eyes, exhaling a scorching white mist that felt like a sharp blade. He clenched his fist tightly, feeling the incredibly surging power in his palm.

His combat power should have broken ten thousand!

In this era where Piccolo Daimao was still gathering dust in an electric rice cooker and the average combat power of an Earthling was only five, what kind of value did ten thousand combat power hold?

It meant that if he were to get even slightly serious now and throw a Kamehameha, the moon above could instantly become the most spectacular firework in the universe.

As for his "dear brother" Raditz, who wouldn't come to Earth to cause trouble for another dozen years, or that muscular bald Nappa? In the face of ten thousand combat power, they were nothing more than two high-level punching bags that could take a bit more of a beating. He had effectively cleared the standard Earth dungeon.

But there was no complacency in Son Goku's black eyes; instead, they held a very clear, calculated focus.

As a transmigrator who knew how everything would unfold, he was well aware that in the vast sea of stars beyond Earth lay Frieza, the Emperor of the Universe with a base combat power of 530,000; Cell, the android fused with the cells of the entire universe's elite; and Majin Buu, who even the Supreme Kai found troublesome.

Ten thousand combat power, in this cruel universe, was at best a pass to just barely step out of the starter village. If he wanted to truly control the overall situation and keep his destiny firmly in his own hands, the Super Saiyan transformation was his only goal for the next few years—unless he wanted to live off a woman.

The threshold of over three million in base combat power and the massive amount of S-Cells in his body were both indispensable.

"Pure-blooded Saiyans only know how to kill and plunder, temperamental and bloodthirsty. Yet, S-Cells require a stable, gentle state of mind to multiply in large numbers, which is why the Super Saiyan became a legend..."

Son Goku pulled a white towel over to dry his hair, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes.

The soul of a transmigrator, the bottomless-pit potential of Kakarot's body, and the awakened Ancient Saiyan Bloodline. The moment he crossed that threshold and completed his transformation, he would inevitably display a posture that surpassed everyone's understanding.

Deduction was one thing, but he still had to walk the path one step at a time. Obsessively grinding in the gravity chamber wouldn't help improve his state of mind; it might even be counterproductive. Calculating the date, it was time to go out and hoard some strategic supplies.

The Senzu Bean on Korin Tower was hard currency that could snatch a life back from the hands of the King of Hell; he had to stock up on them in bulk. They would be a perfect match for exploiting the Saiyan near-death recovery bug later on. Then there was the Hyperbolic Time Chamber on Kami's Lookout and the secret technique of Planet Yardrat—Instant Transmission...

With all these trump cards held firmly in his hand, he could calmly handle whatever storms the future brought.

Hiss—

The air pressure valve let out a soft exhaust sound, and the heavy metal doors of the gravity chamber slid open to both sides.

Bulma shuffled in wearing a pair of pink rabbit slippers and a silk bathrobe, rushing in with a flurry of motion. She didn't even have time to tidy her signature short blue hair, with a few strands sticking to her fair cheeks. All her usual elegant "young lady" airs were cast to the winds, and she clutched a device the size of a pocket watch tightly in her hand.

"Goku! It's insane!"

She marched up to Son Goku in two or three steps and shoved the glowing Dragon Radar right into his face, her tone so hurried she couldn't even catch her breath.

"Look at these radar coordinates! There are five Dragon Ball signals, and they're all in the same direction! And they're moving toward a specific coordinate at an incredible speed!"

As a once-in-a-century genius of Capsule Corporation, Bulma's intuition was sharp and hit the nail on the head.

"This is absolutely not a natural scattering! It must be an organization with immense financial resources and high-precision radar, sweeping the world for Dragon Balls like a bulldozer. The efficiency is ridiculous!"

Son Goku took the radar from her, glanced at the clustered flashing dots on the screen, and immediately understood—the Red Ribbon Army.

Calculating the timeline, it was indeed time for these poor fools to make an appearance. Red Tess, who was going crazy trying to grow a few centimeters taller; the loyal Black Advisor; Dr. Gero, who was hiding underground conducting research, and the rest.

These people were quite diligent, doing all the hard work of digging through the mud all over the world to find the Dragon Balls for him. In Son Goku's eyes, their heavily guarded steel fortress was no different from a temporary locker that was open for free.

"Isn't that great?"

Son Goku tossed the Dragon Radar lightly in his hand, his other hand naturally wrapping around Bulma's shoulder as he ruffled her messy blue hair, his tone as relaxed as if they were discussing what to have for dinner.

"I was just worried about getting moldy staying in the gravity chamber for the last few months. Let's go, Miss, let's take a vacation and pick up the Dragon Balls that belong to us while we're at it!"

Bulma froze for a moment. Looking at the young man before her, bare-chested and wearing such a bright, calm smile, the anxiety in her heart vanished instantly, replaced by a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Tch, talk is cheap. Don't come crying to me when you get beaten up!" Bulma swatted his hand away, though she couldn't suppress the upward curve of her lips as she turned and trotted away in her slippers to pack her luggage.

Watching Bulma's cheerful back, Son Goku rested his hands behind his head, a glimmer of anticipation flashing in his black eyes.

The Red Ribbon Army.

I hope your guns and cannons can at least help me loosen up my muscles.